Someone made a mention in the reviews on chapter 2 or 3 about how they couldn't wait for Harry to meet Chuck… Wish granted. I've had this chapter planned for a while actually. It's one of my favorite episodes in the series.

For reference purposes I'd like to mention that canon says the Carver Edlund 'Supernatural' books cut off with Dean going to hell. If you'll recall from chapter 1 the Winchesters meet Harry just before then.

Episodes: 4.18 The Monster at the End of This Book, 5.9 The Real Ghostbusters,

The Winchesters had driven him some twenty miles out of town before Harry felt the block on his magic loosen. He wished them a farewell before simply popping out of their backseat like he'd never been there. He was sure Dean had hit the brakes and swerved a bit which amused him to no end. You'd think he'd be used to people disappearing what with how often it was happening around him nowadays.

Harry arrived in his office to see a bottle of champagne on his desk with a note attached. He grabbed the paper and flipped it open. 'To the joining of two businesses.' Was written in loopy handwriting. Harry tossed the card to the side and took the bucket of champagne and water to the sink. The fact that the ice had melted completely sort of brought up the question of how long the bucket had been sitting there.

The shrill ringing of his cell phone brought him out of his reverie. Placing aside the bucket he reached for the device and flipped it open. "Hello?" he said grabbing the champagne bottle and raising an eye at the label. Well, at least it wasn't the cheap stuff.

"H-hello." A woman's voice said on the other.

Harry blinked. He didn't recognize that voice. "How did you get this number?" He asked setting the bottle in his wet cabinet and closing the door.

"I…er…um…that's not important." The woman said seemingly gaining a tinge of confidence.

Harry let out a sigh. "Well I don't have all day. Do try to get to the point."

He could have sworn he heard a sharp intake of breath followed by a shrill sound. He pulled the phone away from his ear just the slightest bit to glance at the number. No, he definitely didn't know that number.

"Uh, well. You see…it's important that you come to-"

Harry inhaled deeply as she rambled off an address. "Why, pray tell, would I go to an unknown location given to me by an unknown woman, for unknown reasons?" he said eyebrow twitching just slightly in annoyance.

"It's impor-"

And the call dropped just then as any proper call would, to raise tension he supposed. He hit the redial button but it went straight to voicemail and even that was completely automated giving him no clues as to the phone's owner.

He flipped his phone closed and sighed. He made his way to his desk with a glass and a scotch bottle. He set the glass down roughly filling it to the tip with the precious amber liquid and then downing it. He rarely downed liquor. It was a waste after all to gulp a good scotch. He refilled the glass to a more reasonable level before capping the bottle and walking it back over to the cabinet to shelve it.

"I think some sleep is in order before I go gallivanting around the globe." He muttered to himself, apparating home.

"Come on!" Sam shouted back at Dean as his brother stopped to survey the crowded parking lot in confusion.

Shaking his head Dean snapped out of it and followed choosing to ignore the identical Impala's parked in droves.

"Chuck! There you are!" Sam said spotting a pale pacing man near the stairs.

"Guys?" Chuck replied in confusion.

"What's going on?" Dean said catching up finally.

"Nothing much…just kinda hanging around. What…uh what are you guys doing here?"

San's eyebrows rose. "You told us to come."

"Ah," Chuck laughed a tinge of his nervous energy resurfacing. "No I didn't."

"Yeah…you did." Sam said tenseness leaving his shoulders. "You texted Dean this address, life or death situation. Any of this ringing a bell?"

"I didn't text you." Chuck insisted.

"We drove all night." Dean said frustrated now that he knew the man wasn't in trouble.

"I'm sorry I don't know what…oh no."

"What?"

"Sam! You made it!"

Both brothers blinked up to the unwelcome sight of a grinning woman descending upon them gleefully.

"Oh…uh…Becky? Right?"

"Oh, you remembered." She said stopping just in front of him her voice grew husky. "You've been thinking of me."

Dean wasn't sure if he should laugh of suppress a shiver at the look on her face.

"I…"

"It's okay." She said stepping forward. "I haven't been able to get you out of my head either."

Sam cringed slightly.

"Becky, did you take my phone?" Chuck cut in, to Sam's relief.

"I just borrowed it from your pants." She said with a casual shrug holding the phone out.

Chuck took the phone. "Did you call anyone else?"

"N…no." she said the lie clearly showing on her face.

Chuck flipped open the phone flicking through the recent activity log. Sam noticed him pale dramatically as he seemed to register the number he was reading.

"Is something wrong?"

Chuck's eyes flicked to Becky and then back to the phone. "You didn't call…him did you? Where did you even find the number?"

"It was on a note in your car with the letter H.P. next to it." She reasoned. "I thought, 'it couldn't be'-"

"So you called him?" Chuck said eyes wide.

"Called who?" Dean tried to intercede.

"I just thought they'd want to see." Becky said enthusiastically.

"See what?" Dean and Sam ground out at the same time, Dean more frustrated for being ignored.

"Oh my god! I love it when they talk at the same time!"

"Hey Chuck!" A guy called appearing near the top of the stairs. "Come on pal it's show time."

Chuck hesitated as the man walked away expecting Chuck to follow. Becky rushed after the man chattering excitedly. With a shake of his head Chuck turned in the Winchesters' direction. "Guys…I'm sorry. For all of this."

Dean and Sam trailed after Chuck as he made his way into the building. They paused by the door allowing a man to pass in front of them. The man turned in their direction eying Dean. "Hey Dean, looking good!" he said as he passed with a mixed drink in hand.

"Who the hell are you?" Dean said in confusion.

"I'm Dean too…duh." The man, now dubbed Dean as well, replied. Sure enough the man was wearing clothes remarkably similar to the real Dean's down to the amulet Sam had given Dean several years back for Christmas.

"What is this?"

"It's awesome!" Becky supplied. "It's the first Supernatural fan convention!"

Dean and Sam continued to stare around the room in awe and annoyance. This was their lives paraded about like some sort of game.

Dean nudged Sam. "Check it out." Sam followed Dean's gaze to a man of average height and thin build in what looked like an Armani suit. Black hair…

"Becky…who did Chuck think you called?"

Becky blanked for a minute. "Oh…uh…" she started slow. "Well if you two were real, well you are real and I just-thought-that-if-you-guys-were-real-then-maybe-everyone-else-"

"Becky!" Sam stopped her. Her rambling had become incoherent in its quickness. "Slower."

"Or better yet, why don't you just give us a name." Dean supplied hoping it would simplify the eccentric woman's spiel.

"Well, uh…in the books you guys only met him once."

"Who?"

"Harry." She said looking like she wanted to crawl into a hole.

"Harry." Dean repeated wanting to smack his face. They'd barely gotten rid of the guy and now he was popping up again?

"I know he couldn't help you…" she trailed off at the looks on their faces. "What?"

"Nothing." Sam said hand over his face. Dean had been watching the Harry look alike and was sure it wasn't him when the man accepted a soda from a woman who was dressed as…Bobby…weird. Harry didn't seem the 'soda' type.

"This way." Becky said leading them towards the back where people were gathered at the entrance to the ballroom. The doors swung inward and the twenty or so people there made their way in. It seemed to be a signal of sorts because suddenly the whole hotel was in that room minus the workers.

Sam and Dean shared a look before following.

Harry found himself outside of a nice hotel. That much he was pleasantly surprised at. What had him more shocked, however, were the numerous black impalas littering the parking lot in neat lines. It was frightening in a way. "Sweet Merlin, I've just stepped into the twilight zone." He muttered glancing around for any sign of life. None spotted, he made his way for the front entrance.

The lobby would have been nice if it weren't littered with semi abandoned booths and half empty solo cups. He blinked back his disdain for a shirt that read 'honk if you've got hellhounds'.

"The hotel's rented out to convention guests sir." A man said approaching apologetically as he spotted Harry's reproachful glances. "Can I help you?"

"A convention?" he said raising an eyebrow. "For what?"

"Some book series." The man said dismissively.

"And the…attendees…" Harry chose the nicest word he could think of. "Where are they?"

"The ballroom. There's some sort of introductory thing about to start."

"Where's the ballroom?"

"Uh…right this way." The man said obviously confused. "No offense sir, but you don't seem the type."

Harry shot him a look. "None taken." He said with a smirk as they reached the doors the man had been leading him to. One still stood ajar, invitingly. "I'm not."

Harry left the man at the doors making his way inside. He immediately spotted the hulking form of Sam Winchester to the right standing behind the rows of chairs in the center of the room. Harry made his way to the left watching a fat man ascend to the stage a clipboard in hand. He tapped the mic and after the resounding mechanical feedback nodded. "Welcome to the first annual Supernatural convention." Harry raised an eyebrow. "At 3:45 in the Magnolia room we have the panel, 'Frightened little boy, the secret life of Dean'."

The second eyebrow joined the first near his hairline.

"And at 4:30 there's the 'Homoerotic subtext of Supernatural.'" Harry nearly choked on air. What sort of weird convention had he walked into? Surely by Dean they didn't Dean Winchester? And what the bloody hell was 'Supernatural'?

"Oh and of course the big hunt starts at 7pm sharp." Cheers went up from the people sitting in the small chaired section. "But right now, right now I'd like to introduce the man himself; the creator, the writer of the supernatural books. The one, the only, Carver Edlund!"

Massive amounts of cheering and applause broke out among the supposed fans as a thin, nervous looking man took the stage nodding to the fat man. "Ok…okay good…this isn't nearly as awkward as I…" he seemed to choke up. "Dry mouth." He explained grabbing a water bottle and all but chugging its contents. When he finished he recapped the bottle and turned timidly back to those watching him. Harry was thoroughly unimpressed. "Okay…so…um…questions?"

Tens of hands shot up all in an attempt to be noticed first.

"Uh…you."

A tall tin man stood wearing what looked surprisingly like Sam's jacket. "Hey Mr. Edlund…uh…big fan." He said sounding excited and nervous. "I was just wondering, where did you come up with Sam and Dean in the first place?"

Harry blinked rapidly unsure if he'd heard that right. He shot a glance to the brothers who were watching the man on stage expectantly. The man, Carver as he'd been called by the man who introduced him, didn't seem oblivious to those looks. He kept glancing their way almost apologetically.

"Oh…ah, I, it just came to me." He sounded as if he doubted his own answer.

Hands shot up again now that he'd answered.

"Oh, yeah. The hook man."

"Yeah." Harry glanced skeptically at the standing man when a thick German accent issued forth. "Why in every fight scene, Sam and Dean are having their gun knocked away by the bad guy? Why don't they keep it on some kind of bungee?"

Harry snorted in amusement drawing the attention of some sitting closer to him. One girl mouthed something and gave him a thumbs up. He glanced at her warily as she turned back to the stage.

"I…yeah…I really don't know." The guy answered looking desperate.

"Ja. Follow up." The German man pushed on seemingly oblivious to the other man's discomfort. "Why can't Sam and Dean be telling that Ruby is evil? I mean she is clearly manipulating Sam into some kind of moral lapse. It's obvious, nien?"

Harry rolled his eyes. Of course it was easy to see that from a spectator's standpoint. Sam was perpetually lost in a 'can't see the forest for the trees' daze, but then again how was this man a spectator? Surely Sam and Dean didn't run about giving away details of their life.

"Hey! If you don't like the books don't read them Fritz!" a woman yelled angrily stomping forward. Harry tilted his head to the side eying her. He'd found his mystery caller, and she definitely wasn't what he'd been expecting. Then again this whole scene seemed a bit disjointed.

"Ok, Ok, just..okay. It's okay. So, next question. Yeah, you." The man on the stage said placating.

"Yeah, at the end of the last book, Dean goes to hell. So, what happens next?"

Harry's eyes couldn't have been wider. If he'd been holding something he'd likely have dropped it so it was a good thing he'd foregone bringing his usual glass of scotch.

"Oh. Well there lies an announcement, actually. You're all going to find out." There was a moment of pause as though the man was choosing the best words. "Thanks to a wealthy Scandinavian investor, we're going to start publishing again."

The room erupted into mass hysteria which Harry found himself thankfully just far enough away from not to be engulfed in.

"I need a drink." He said hand moving to rub his temples as he exited the ballroom. He made a beeline for the bar he'd spotted earlier off to the side of the rather sizable lobby. He'd barely reached its edge before he could hear people filtering from the room he'd just been in. He gave a sigh signaling to the bartender and telling him to bring out a double scotch. As the man measured his drink Harry turned to watch the people pouring from the room all subdividing into their own little groups. He spotted Sam and Dean go off to the side arguing about something as usual.

The man who'd been on stage, Carver Edlund if he'd heard correctly, was heading in Harry's direction seemingly oblivious to all but the bartender who'd already slid Harry's drink over and had started wiping down the counter on the opposite end of the bar. Harry's eyes followed him for a moment before snapping to the woman taking a seat not far away. She was the reason he was here after all. She was alone for a few seconds and Harry made to walk over, but Carver Edlund cut him off just as he stood nearly spilling the two unseemly colorful drinks he was carrying. Carver muttered an apology not really looking in his direction and Harry was just thankful he hadn't been covered in the bright yellow mess. He tapped the bar letting the bartender know he'd like a refill and then pulled out a twenty and plopped it on the counter turning away from the man.

He was more than a little surprised when he saw the Winchesters approach the two. Not because it seemed that Dean and Sam knew the man, but because of the unadulterated lust in every glance the woman was throwing Sam. It was almost disturbing in its intensity. Grabbing his drink he swaggered over just as the nervous man was departing with the Winchesters. He watched them round the corner as he plopped into the chair right beside the woman they'd left behind.

She shot him a scornful look. "What do you want?"

He blinked a bit taken aback. "I travel a thousand miles and that's the reception I get?" he said with mock hurt. "I was told not to trust blind dates, but that's definitely the last time I traverse half the country for a voice on the other end of the phone."

Confusion, then understanding filtered across her face. Then an insane amount of excitement. "You're Harry!" she exclaimed only just remembering that shouting indoors wasn't the best idea.

"That is the usual moniker, yes."

She looked beyond words for a minute like she'd just met an idol.

Harry shot her a bemused look. "And you are?"

"Oh…right." She extended a hand. "Becky. Becky Rosen."

Harry stared at the proffered hand. "A pleasure, I'm sure."

She didn't seem offended at all. In fact his abrupt dismissal only seemed to further enthuse her, much to his dismay.

"Why exactly was it so important that I meet you here?" he asked glancing around with unhidden disdain.

"So you could see the convention of course!" she said with a grin. "It's awesome isn't it?"

Harry gave her a skeptical look. "Who gave you my number?" he said with a sigh thinking about how he'd torture the poor soul that decided it was a good idea to hand his number to the likes of Becky Rosen.

"Well…no one really…" she said evasively. "I sort of…"

"What?"

"Found it in Chuck's car…"

"I don't know a 'Chuck'."

"You know 'Carver Edlund'." She said using air quotes.

"Right." Harry said as if he'd known the whole time and simply pulled a blank when the name was mentioned. "I think I'll go have a chat with 'Chuck'." He stood just as a scream sounded.

"Come on." Becky said standing too and tugging on his arm for all of two seconds before he'd neatly removed it from her grasp. "You'll want to see this."

Feeling oddly like he'd been left out of some key detail Harry followed hoping that since she was heading in the same direction he'd seen the Winchesters leave in he'd bump into this 'Chuck'.

She harried him up some stairs and around the back of a large group of people all clustered around an emphatically talking maid. "Oooh the LARPing's started!" Becky announced with far too much joy for Harry's taste.

"Pardon?"

"The…what is tha…." Dean had turned with Sam when they'd heard Becky's voice behind them. They hadn't expected to come face to face with a disgruntled Harry.

Becky glanced between Harry and Sam looking like a woman who'd found paradise. Harry swore he heard her mutter something about sexual tension and that was all he needed to get serious bad chills down his spine.

"Live action role playing." Becky answered Harry's question and Dean's half a question. "It's a game. The convention puts it on."

Harry shook his head in disappointment. LARPing had at first sounded much like a particularly bad STD.

"So…why exactly are you here?" Sam asked curiously.

"Suffice it to say I got a mysterious phone call from a voracious lady claiming my presence was imperative."

"Was that even English?" Dean said looking completely lost. Sam shook his head.

"Proper English." Harry said with a smile. "Not that I'd expect you to know. I've already accepted that your vocabulary doesn't extend much beyond 'where's the shotgun'."

Dean looked caught between indignation and fear of saying something stupid. Sam and Becky just seemed amused by the whole exchange, Becky more so than Sam. Harry was already starting to theorize that perhaps the woman had it out for Dean, and had a thing for the younger brother. It certainly wasn't difficult to see the latter.

"So I've explained why I'm here. Why are you two here?"

Sam's eyes flicked to Becky.

"Ah…much the same then?" Harry turned to Becky. "You seem to get a lot of prank calls out of the way don't you? Oh yes, Dean, Sam, I meant to ask, why is there a building full of people dressed like you?"

"Apparently they're LARPing." Sam supplied as if that cleared anything up for anyone.

"Right…and therein lies another question." He said putting up a finger to silence Becky who looked ready to defend the convention to her last breath. "Why do these people seem to be under the assumption that you two are characters in a book?"

"Not just them!" Becky said seemingly unable to stop herself.

"Meaning?" Harry questioned with a half hearted snideness.

She looked at him imploringly.

Harry's expression was unreadable. "You mean…I'm-?"

She nodded emphatically.

"Pardon me. I need to find a certain author." Harry said turning abruptly and startling the other three a tad.

Dean and Sam shared a look before moving after him leaving Becky looking confused standing in the upstairs hallway. Harry had already made it to the bottom of stairs when they reached the top and he was looking left and right obviously trying to locate Chuck. He veered off to the right and by the time the brothers hit the main floor he was nowhere to be seen, which didn't bode well.

Harry rounded a corner and spotted his target making conversation with a skinny man with a clipboard. They seemed to be talking about coordinating some event because there were a lot of times thrown in. honestly Chuck seemed more like he was just agreeing with the guy more than anything. He was obviously out of his depth.

"Pardon." Harry said interrupting the two. "Might I borrow Mr. Edlund for a moment." Harry said with a polite smile. Clipboard man seemed annoyed, Chuck had simply frozen upon hearing his voice. He hadn't turned to face Harry much to the British man's amusement and chagrin.

"Look, he's busy right now. If you want an autograph you have to pay for it and wait in line like everyone else."

Harry blinked twice before his eyes narrowed into a vicious glare. Before he could retaliate Chuck was stepping up. "Uh, it's okay…I…I'll talk to him." Chuck said before hesitantly turning in Harry's direction. The look on his face said he'd clearly wished for anyone but Harry to be standing there when he turned.

"Good afternoon Chuck." Harry said clicking the 'k'.

"Oooh god…" Chuck said nervously.

"Perhaps we should move somewhere a tinge more private for this meeting?"

Chuck didn't object as Harry led him away although he looked like he'd rather throw himself into a swimming pool full of razors. Harry opened a random side door glanced in to see if it was empty and then motioned for Chuck to precede him. With a flick of his wrist the door locked behind them. The room was mostly empty save a few scattered chairs and tables. Harry gracefully sat himself in one of the chairs even though his whole body was screaming at him to lash out at the man in front of him.

"I assume you know who I am." Harry said smugly.

Chuck nodded wide eyed.

"I suppose that saves me introductions. However, it raises a few questions seeing as, before today, I'd never heard of you." Harry leaned back in his chair surveying the man in front of him. "So?"

Chuck fidgeted, but said nothing.

Harry tilted his head slightly. "The Winchesters seem to know what's going on. Perhaps they can inform me?"

Chuck let out a sort of self loathing sigh. "Okay, so…I didn't know this myself until recently…" Chuck started and Harry raised an eyebrow. "I've been writing books about Sam and Dean for years. A couple of months ago they showed up on my doorstep."

"Meaning of course that they hadn't okayed your writing about them."

Chuck nodded. "I would get these headaches and then I would see things." He explained hope rising in his chest at the fact that Harry hadn't tried to kill him yet. "And then I just started writing about them. Something told me it was what I should do."

"Something told you?" Harry asked skeptically. "Like a little voice in your head, or like an urge?"

"Like an urge…I guess…and so I started writing and I published the books for a while."

Harry seemed less angry than interested now. "So you're psychic and the Winchesters just happen to be what your powers are focusing on?"

"Well…no…when Sam and Dean showed up I found out that…I'm…"

"You're what?" Harry said annoyance rising again when Chuck didn't finish his thought. "Besides inarticulate I mean."

"A prophet…" Chuck sounded completely unconvinced of the theory himself.

"Brilliant." Harry said sarcastically. "However, I suppose the focus here isn't really on how you're writing, but what you have written. Your friend, Ms. Rosen, she let slip that I've been in at least one of your books."

Chuck's fidgeting rose a notch as Harry leaned forward.

"How much have you written about me Mr. Edlund?" Harry emphasized the last name letting Chuck know that he knew it was a pen name and nothing more.

"N-not much." Chuck got out. "You were only in the last published novel from what I remember." Chuck said fumbling with a paper he pulled from his back pocket. A list of the book titles was on the page. He'd kept it as a sort of reminder in case anyone had asked him about a specific book while he'd been talking earlier on stage.

Harry frowned his eyes darkening. "And how much do you know?"

The man's terrified demeanor was answer enough really. He knew far too much, and yet somehow his reactions seemed too measured for someone who was really as afraid as Chuck should be. It was a conundrum to say the least. Harry shook his head withdrawing.

"I'm sure you know I run a business…several actually." Harry said with a frown as Chuck nodded. "Then I'm sure you know that I also do a lot of things that aren't exactly…legal. Now in order to run such a business every bumbling civilian on the street can't know about what I do. You follow?"

Chuck nodded hesitantly.

"Good." Harry leaned back and Chuck seemed to finally take a breath. "I think I've taken an interest in your work Chuck. I'll be watching it very closely from now on."

Harry stood straightening his suit. He glanced back at Chuck who was staring at the table in front of him. He felt a pang of pity for the man that he quickly squashed. "Do try not to mention me by name again." He snapped his fingers and Chuck suddenly looked immensely uncomfortable. He flicked his wrist opening the door and leaving Chuck with his thoughts in the room.

Harry made his way back to the bar intent on finding himself another drink. It wasn't every day that you found out your secret life was being written about by a prophet. Harry rolled his eyes, a prophet. The world could be so unoriginal sometimes. To him, a prophet was simply a psychic with a specialty. And Chuck seemed to have a fixation on the Winchesters. The Winchesters in turn seemed to have far too much contact with him lately for him not to be mentioned in those books at least a few times over.

He shoulder barely bumped into Sam as he rounded the corner leading to the lounge.

"Harry!" Sam said sounding surprised. "We were looking for you. Where's Chuck?"

Harry watched Sam's eyes dart about for a minute with a smirk. "Putting himself back together I'd imagine." He said nonchalantly moving pass the massive bicep that was far too close to his face for comfort. "The man has a knack for knowing things he shouldn't."

"You didn't…do anything to him…did you?" Sam asked hesitantly.

Harry scowled over his shoulder. "Nothing serious. This suit is far too valuable to get bloodstains on."

He tapped the bar to Dean's right drawing the bartender's attention and ordering a drink. Dean himself seemed a bit too into his alcohol a morbidly depressed look etched on his face. "What's wrong with you? You look like you just found out someone nuked your hamster."

Dean downed the last of the amber liquid in his glass holding it out to the man filling Harry's glass. "This whole place gives me the creeps." He said with a grimace. "Watching people walk around acting like they're us…and no offense but there are way too many of 'you' here."

Harry glanced to the sides. "Oh please, not a single one of them is wearing a nice suit. They're all rentals from a department store. Besides, there are about ten fake Dean's to every fake Harry, and some of your clones seem to have actually gotten close to replicating your unique blend of Salvation Army cast offs and drunken incompetency."

Dean didn't have time to be offended as a bustling argument had started near the entrance.

"For the last time! I'm not making this up okay! She's upstairs! A real live, dead ghost." A kid that couldn't be past his early twenties seemed to be shouting at a friend. Harry had to admit he looked like he'd lost a fight with an angry bull.

"I think that's your cue Mr. Ghost hunter." Harry said with a grin.

Dean grumbled as he walked over with Sam at his heels. "You saw something?" Sam asked as they approached.

"This isn't part of the game jerk." The kid bit back snottily. Harry snorted. Dressed as they were Sam and Dean did seem to be part of the LARPing crowd. "Look, I'm getting out of here, and you should do the same." The kid told his friend making for the front door.

Harry watched him leave with mild interest as the brothers walked back his way talking.

"You think it's really a ghost?" Sam said quietly.

"The kid didn't look fake beat up." Dean replied thinking. "And I don't think the kid's a good enough actor to be acting anyway."

Sam nodded in agreement. He spotted Harry. "What do you think?"

Harry shrugged. "He's right."

Sam blinked taken aback by the straightforward answer. "Dean or the kid?"

"Both." Harry answered again straightforwardly.

"What makes you so sure?"

Harry glanced upward at the ceiling. "Nothing particular." He said with a shrug. "I think I'm going to go check out the panel on the secret life of Dean. Sounds promising. Have fun kiddos."

The panel was anything but promising. If Harry wasn't afraid falling asleep in such a place might lead to some sort of fangirl photo op he might have passed out where he sat. Which just happened to be in the smack dab middle of one of the long rows thanks to his terrible luck. He was boxed in on every side by people completely convinced that Dean Winchester was some sort of sensitive compassionate kid who just needed the opportunity to show his love. Harry tried not to scoff at the idea. He was of the persuasion that Dean Winchester was a borderline incest ridden sociopath with a long history of violence and far too many authority trust issues.

The panel could not have ended too soon if it had simply been the words 'start' and 'the end'. Harry stood, stretching as people filed out for the short break that was being offered between panels. He was nigh assaulted as he exited the ballroom doors.

"Would you like to vote in our sexiest character poll?" An excitable woman wearing thick glasses asked bouncing up next to him.

Harry gave her a wide eyed side glance. "Excuse me, what?"

"The sexiest character poll." She said obviously happy he'd even given her a response. "We took some of the characters and we're having people vote based on the physical descriptions given in the books. Great Harry costume by the way. It's great. You've even got the accent down."

Harry let out a half hearted sigh as she carted him to the table. A list of names lay before him. He read it twice then blinked. "I'm not on here?" he said skimming again.

"Oh yeah, Harry didn't make it." The girl said sounding genuinely disappointed. "The guys who made the poll said that he wasn't in the books enough to qualify. They said he wouldn't have a large enough fan base."

Harry wasn't sure whether to be offended or relieved. He blinked down at the list again. "I don't have enough of a following but Bobby Singer does?" Harry said appalled by the mere thought that Bobby could be considered more attractive than him in any way. Then he caught himself and couldn't help but wonder why he cared.

The girl shrugged. "He has a rugged appeal I guess. Dean will probably win."

Harry rolled his eyes. Like that imbecile needed another ego boost. A smirk wormed its way onto his face. With a snap of his fingers the entered ballots changed just slightly. Every vote for Dean was now a vote for Harry. "Cheers." He said circling Dean's name and watching the text change as he slid it into the ballot box. The girl waved to him as he departed with a smug smile on his face.

"What are you smiling about?"

'Speak of the devil.' Harry thought turning in Dean's direction. "What ever are you talking about? I'm naturally this cheerful all the time."

"Yeah, sure. You're a natural born cheerleader." Dean scoffed. "On second thought I don't think I want to know what you're smiling about. You probably imagined an orphanage on fire or something." Dean said waving away his former question in a way Harry highly disapproved of if his sudden scowl was any indication.

"How is your hunt going Mr. Winchester?" Harry asked snidely. "Found a way to get rid of Casper yet?"

"Already taken care of." Dean said with a smirk heading over to where Sam was approaching two men sitting at a table near the bar. Harry followed with a shrug.

"That was…"

"Awful. Right?" Dean supplied to finish the tall skinny man's sentence. He slapped a twenty down between the two men. "Exactly. This round's on us guys."

"Not to interrupt your celebration," Harry supplied with a smirk. "But I'm curious. What did you do? Appease the ghosts with candy?"

"No, we lit her up of course." Dean said with a scoff as if it were the obvious answer.

"Ah, right." Harry said with a shake of his head. "Except you've 'lit up' the wrong corpse apparently."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked wide eyed.

"I mean there's still a ghost here. Honestly, aren't you supposed to be the bright brother?"

"How do you know?" Asked the heavy set man who was dressed eerily similar to Dean.

"I'm sorry…who are you?"

"Dean." The man supplied though he looked unsure at the proclamation.

Harry stared at the man a moment too long for his comfort obviously as he shifted. "I'm sure." He said shifting his eyes to the man's counterpart. "And you would be Sam in this equation?"

The skinny man nodded.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Can we please skip the semantics? I'd like to go home at some point this century."

"Then pop on out of here Merlin." Dean said snidely.

"Honestly Dean, do try to be original. I can't stand much more of the same joke." Harry bit out.

"You said a ghost was still here, but we burned Leticia Gore's bones." Sam argued.

"Well clearly you either did a piss poor job of it, or she wasn't the problem." Harry supplied with a shrug.

"This is all getting a bit weird." The skinny Sam cosplayer said with a shake of his head. "I mean, real ghosts, and you guys are talking to him like he can actually teleport or something." The man gestured toward Harry.

"Or something." Harry agreed flippantly. "I think I see a scotch with my name on it at the bar. Even if they do serve shitty liquor. Do try to work out your trust issues while I'm away."

Halfway to the bar a shrill scream, quite unlike the practiced and rather fake one earlier, filled the air. The bartender continued polishing his glass obviously not caring, most likely thinking it part of the odd events around him. Harry shrugged and continued on his way sure that the Winchesters were well on their way.

Once again Harry found himself corralled into the ballroom with the large crowd of overeager fans. Luckily he'd been ushered in with a large group and the people at the door had failed to notice his drink. Unluckily, the Winchesters had decided that now would be a good time to royally fuck up their hunt and allow ghosts to run rampant in a hotel full of guests. He glanced back at the salt line Sam was hurriedly laying near the back door as he made his way to the outskirts of the crowded room.

"I hope you've got margaritas to go with that." Harry said approaching the man. "Because otherwise I'm thinking you've surrendered the rest of the hotel to ghosts and I'm now trapped in my own personal version of hell."

"We'll have to put off the victory drinks." Dean said approaching with a woman dressed in a schoolmarm outfit. She, not so subtly eyed Harry like a piece of meat.

"I thought so." Harry said with a sigh.

A hand landed on Dean's shoulder. "We want to help." The heavy set man from before said determinedly. Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Guys, no." Dean said shaking his head.

"Why?"

"Because this isn't make believe!" Dean snapped quietly trying not to draw attention from the far too bored staff they had brought into the room minutes before.

"Look, we know, we're not nuts." Harry snorted seriously doubting that sentiment. "We're freaking terrified."

"But if all these people are seriously in danger we've gotta do something."

"Why?"

"Because that's what Sam and Dean would do."

Harry sighed. That's what Sam and Dean were trying to do. These two mooks weren't making it easier either.

Sam and Dean shared a look then they both glanced over at Harry.

"You know if you just use your hoodoo powers this would be over in a second." Dean hissed quietly.

Harry shrugged. "You know, I could…but I'm not going to."

"Why not?!" Dean growled frustrated.

"Oh Dean." Harry said patting his cheek condescendingly. "I'm having far too much fun watching you and your brother run about. It's a simple haunting. You're both experienced hunters. You should be able to handle it. Tell me, are all of your hunts like this? It seems tiring."

Dean scowled but didn't answer moving toward the doors.

"I tell you what," Harry said catching Dean and Sam's attention. "I'll keep watch here and make sure no one leaves. You two deal with the ghosts, and then at the end of the day we can all go home happy."

Dean shot him a look that clearly said he didn't think Harry was doing enough, but Harry just shrugged.

"Take it or leave it." He said as the door swung shut.

Chuck had long since run out of things to talk about that would keep an audience enraptured, and still the Winchesters hadn't resurfaced with the all clear. Harry himself was finding it hard to stay conscious as the man droned on about god knows what.

"Let's see, what else? I fell in love for the first time at 16. Lost my virginity, actually. But then she went around telling everybody it didn't count."

Harry blinked back into semi consciousness at that. Was the man seriously sharing his sex life. Oh man, he needed more to talk about. He wondered if setting something on fire would be a good subject change. Nah, too much room for panic induced running.

Caught in his ponderings he didn't pay attention to the man moving toward the door at a rather sedate pace.

"Excuse me! You really can't leave. Please sir!" Chuck yelled at the hotel manager who had one hand on the door handle. "Don't open that door!"

Harry wasn't quite quick enough in moving to stop the arrogant manager who was completely ignoring Chuck's demands. The door opened and the salt line broke much to Chuck's obvious dismay. He was already making a dash for the door bringing the mic stand with him much to Harry's surprise.

Harry tugged the man backwards just as the apparition of a small child holding a wicked looking knife materialized making the kid visible to anyone who was facing the door, and most everyone was. "I hate kids." Harry said scrunching up his nose as Chuck brought the mic stand down in front of them swiping right through the kid and dispersing him. Chuck swung the door shut a look of ebbing panic on his face. The manager seemed completely shell shocked.

"I said nobody leaves damn it!" Chuck shouted adrenaline making the words more harsh than normal. "Now somebody salt this door!"

Harry rolled his eyes flicking his wrist and the salt straightened itself much to the manager's surprise, and anyone else's who was close enough to see the act.

Needless to say the room was a little less boring after that. Questions were bursting forth from fans and employees alike about what had just occurred. Chuck seemed overwhelmed by all of it. Taking pity on the man Harry stepped forward tugging the mic from the man as he went.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen." Harry said eying the audience complacently and using a smooth tone that radiated confidence and calmness. He'd perfected it over the years and coined it as his business voice. "If you'd all return to your seats in an orderly fashion I'm sure we can take your questions like civilized human beings yes? Good."

"Who're you!?" A curious but obviously excitable fan called.

Harry tried not to roll his eyes. "Pipe down." He said singling the person out with his gaze. "Inciting a riot is hardly going to achieve anything meaningful." 'Except perhaps relieving me of my boredom.' He tacked on mentally.

Chuck seemed caught between relief at the microphone being taken from his hand and trepidation about standing next to Harry. He was probably remembering the stinging hex Harry had cast on him earlier with something less than fondness.

"What was that thing?" A woman near the front said obviously trying not to freak out and failing. She didn't seem like one of the fans, rather an employee caught in the midst of all this madness.

"That was a ghost ma'am. Do try to keep up with the class." Harry said snottily far beyond politeness. "Anyone have a more intelligent question." After the first answer everyone seemed a tad wary of asking anything. Finally a hand raised near the back. Harry nodded in its direction.

"How long are we going to have to stay in here?" Another employee.

Were the fans brain dead?

"Until my esteemed colleagues dispatch our little haunting problem."

"If those are real ghosts then how come they never attacked anyone before now?!" An angry man asked from near the door.

Harry's eyes swept lazily to him. "I'd recommend stepping away from the door." Harry said eying the way the man was moving slowly towards it and seemed reluctant to believe in ghosts.

"And if I don't?"

"Your funeral."

Chuck seemed aghast that Harry would even joke about that. He swiped the mic back, although it was obvious after a second that he sort of panicked thinking Harry would do something about the brash action. Harry just watched him with mild amusement.

"We all just need to remain calm." Chuck said making placating gestures in the air. "I'm sure we'll be able to leave soon."

As if his words were the signal Sam opened the back doors and gave a thumbs up. Chuck let out a sigh of relief as mutters ran through the crowd.

Becky Rosen, the entire reason that both the Winchesters and Harry had popped up at the convention was standing next to Chuck latched onto the man's arm. Harry glanced between her and the two men Dean was having a conversation with before heading in Chuck's direction. Best to go ahead and get his threats…erm…goodbyes taken care so he could get out of here and back to the real world.

"Look Sam. I'm not gonna lie. We had undeniable chemistry. But like a monkey on the sun it was too hot to live. It can't go on. Chuck and I, we found each other. My yin to his proud yang. And well, the heart wants what the heart wants. I'm so, so sorry."

Harry stopped several feet away slack jawed in absolute disgust by what he'd just heard. He shook himself out of it as Chuck too apologized, although Chuck seemed to realize that Sam actually had no feelings for the woman who was clinging to Chuck desperately.

"Will you be okay?"

Sam let out a long sigh. "Honestly, I don't know. I'll just have to find a way to keep living I guess."

If Harry had eaten anything in the last several hours he was sure he would have upchucked at the fake sentimentalism. As it was he simply gagged drawing attention to himself anyway.

Becky seemed ecstatic at his sudden arrival obviously ignoring the way he was staring at them with a frown.

"I wouldn't worry about him." Harry said putting his façade back in place. "I hear the ladies are just dropping like flies for him."

Sam tensed a bit at the obvious poking fun at what had happened to Jessica and perhaps Madison too if Harry knew about that.

"Ah, it's just like one of my fanfictions!" Becky said excitedly.

"You write fanfiction?" Harry said, the unease coming back in his stomach.

Becky looked hesitant to answer, obviously not having meant to admit such out loud. Her eyes flicked to Sam. "Yes but…"

"For the love of all that's holy, please tell me I'm not in any of it." Harry said dramatically.

"No!" Becky said vehemently agreeing then backtracking. "Well, there was this one story where you-"

"Oookay." Sam cut in catching the dangerous look in Harry's eye. "That's enough. I think we ought to leave now."

"If you touch me I will break your fingers Winchester." Harry said sending the man a heated glare when he had moved to usher Harry away.

Sam withdrew his hand immediately.

"Now then." Harry said straightening his jacket. "Fun though all of this has been…" Sarcasm dripped from his words. "I'm going to take my leave. The next time you feel like inviting me to one of your parties I recommend you don't." His glare had settled on the obviously unsettled Becky. "Mr. Shurley…yes I checked into your real name." He rolled his eyes at the slightly shocked look on the man's face. "If you must continue to print your books, and I don't see why you would, do make sure to find a reasonable alias for me. If you continue to print my real name I'm afraid I'll find it quite disagreeable. And people I don't agree with tend to end up dead. Have a nice day Sam." He said and was gone.

Sam, Becky, and Chuck were left staring at the empty space in shock. Sam mostly because he'd never really heard Harry threaten someone quite so openly. He usually found subtler ways to do it. Becky because she had no idea that Chuck's writings about Harry simply disappearing were quite so literal, and Chuck because he'd just been threatened with death.

Harry was going to need a lifetime's worth of scotch to erase the mental images that had been produced by that convention.

"Finally back are you?"

Harry tensed at the voice. "Crowley." He said turning with a forced smile. "Left the attack dogs at home today did you?"

Crowley looked perfectly at home in Gabriel's usual chair with his own glass of alcohol. "Didn't think I'd need them." He said honestly. "We're both business men by trade. I figured you wouldn't go back on an honest deal. I helped myself to some of your scotch. It's not my brand, but it's much better than anything the humans try to offer me when I show up."

Harry shrugged. He supposed he might be a bit more upset that the demon had been touching his precious alcohol at some other time, but he was simply out of reserve anger, and patience at this point. "Did you bring the items?" Harry said leaning forward as he sat down enjoying the feeling of the chair behind him.

"That depends," Crowley paused. "Where's the colt?"

Harry snapped his fingers and the colt materialized right above his hand. He deftly snatched it from the air before gravity could bring it crashing to the desk loudly. He lowered it so it was resting on the desk right in front of his hands.

Crowley stood producing a suitcase Harry hadn't seen before. Harry gestured for him to open it so he could inspect the contents. The demon hesitantly did so.

Instantly Harry recognized the four items that were present. They were indeed some of the stolen artifacts. He picked up the colt and offered it to Crowley end first taking the suitcase at the same time.

"Pleasure doing business with you." Crowley said vanishing.

Harry scrunched up his nose in distaste. If he had had an option he would have chosen not to have done business with the demon. Alas, life rarely went as Harry wanted it to.

Aaaaand that's a wrap folks.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter. It was sort of a little break from the more serious story line (which reasserted it self right there at the end).

A bit longer of a delay on getting the chapter out this time. Unfortunately I'm dealing with quite a few health issues and it's eating up my time. :/

Still, this chapter is a bit longer than usual so that sort of makes up for it yeah? Well, I suppose this is where I'll end the chapter. 'Til next time!

~Kanathia